


Out of Faith

by TheWitchBoy



Series: Angst [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, The Flash - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: (but that might be because i have ADHD and I like shoving my ish on characters), (in my world - all the speedsters have ADD/ADHD), Best Friends, Birdflash - Freeform, Depressing, Depression, Destructive Behaviour, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson and His Long List of Exes, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jason Todd's Death, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Past Artemis Crock/Wally West, Pre-Slash, Set Between Young Justice Season 2 and Season 3, Wally West has ADHD, Wally West is a Good Friend, Whump, no beta we die like robins, which is especially mean to put here since this fic deals with ... yeah.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWitchBoy/pseuds/TheWitchBoy
Summary: Dick and Wally get to Wally's apartment. Speedsters are discussed, rabbit trails are followed, food is offered, one of them gets lost in thought, and a breakdown is had.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Wally West, Dick Grayson/Wally West
Series: Angst [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116992
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	Out of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Care Warning! This fic deals a bit with the aftermath of Jason's death, in between weirdly-placed introspection and attempts at cohesive storytelling (which falls a bit short because I don't have a real plot, per se).
> 
> Also: watch for that bit where I blatantly obsess about Dick's ass for no reason other than that I could. So. I did.
> 
> And, last thing: most of this was written and/or read over at like 4 - 6am. *small scream* So it might be trash, who even knows? Enjoy anyway, haha.

As soon as they were reasonably hidden from the prying eyes of the suspicious Blüdhaven citizens (and understandably suspicious, given where they lived), Wally caught Dick up into an inelegant bridal carry and sped off to his Keystone apartment.

For the briefest moment, between being hoisted up into the arms of his best friend and being sped off, Dick managed to get his arms around Wally’s neck. He was a solid weight in Wally’s arms and a solid pressure around the back of his neck. It was comfortingly routine, even if bridal carries weren’t Dick’s preferred mode of speedster transportation.

The whole trip was over in a flash (pun intended) and Wally skidded to a stop inside his apartment as the door clicked shut behind them, so quickly that it might as well not have opened, in the first place. He stood there for a long moment, intending to put Dick down after a moment or two. He knew, from secondhand experience, how hard it was for non-speedsters to find their equilibrium after a trek parallel the Speed Force. The speeds were nausea-inducing, themselves, but there was also something to be said about the altered state of existence that proximity to the Speed Force created.

Wally remembered the day when his Uncle Barry started to realize that his peers at the precinct were aging, but he wasn’t. Well, not at the same rate. Iris, naturally, had noticed a lot sooner, but hadn’t said anything. Her own proximity to Barry had produced a similar effect on her aging in relation to her peers’ aging, but it was Barry’s lack of expected aging that clued her in. The Speed Force altered the state of existence of its speedsters and those closest to its speedsters, both when the speedster was running and when the speedster was just… existing. Anywhere.

Wally wondered if Dick was around him enough to be affected by the Speed Force in the same way Iris was. Or Hal. Barry’s affects on Iris and Hal had slowly become more obvious…

“Walls,” Dick said softly.

Wally glanced at him. “Hm?”

Dick smiled and bit back a laugh. “I was just wondering if you were planning on putting me down. Not that I mind.” His arms were still draped around Wally’s neck. He kicked his legs out a few times, the motion equal parts playful and childish.

“Aw, fuck,” Wally laughed in return. “Got lost in my head.”

“I figured.”

Wally set him down, though he kept a hand on his shoulder for a moment longer, just in case he decided to spontaneously keel over. “Ya know, Barry doesn’t do a lot of running with, like, Aunt Iris or Uncle Hal hitching a ride,” he said.

Dick halfheartedly straightened out his clothes and windswept hair. “Is that so?”

“Not like us,” Wally nodded.

“Are you hinting that I should be paying speedster cab fare?” Dick snorted and covered his nose and mouth for a moment. He hated when he did that (Wally just thought it was adorable, honestly). Dick’s mood seemed to be even… or else suppressed under a veneer of PR smiles and acting lessons.

A good run usually helped Wally, so he hoped it had done something for Dick, too. More likely, though, was that Dick was teeter-tottering or pinballing from one side of the emotional spectrum to the other, regardless of how much he smoothed out his expressions or masked his tics.

Why weren’t there sadness Lanterns or joy Lanterns…? If there was room in the universe for the expression of absolute anger and absolute hope, why not sadness or joy? Or was joy, the kind you chose, more akin to hope, on that spectrum?

What was he…?

Ah.

Wally scoffed. “Cab fare. As if. I was just observing, man.”

Dick nodded slowly. “To what end?”

“Well, you know how speedsters are. Speedsters and speedster-adjacents, I mean.”

“Do you mean other fast heroes, like Wonder Woman and Superman, or do you mean adjacent as in something more literal? People who are physically near speedsters?”

“Uh. The second one.”

“So. The aging thing.”

“Or lack thereof,” Wally nodded. He knew Diana and Clark were aging slowly, too, but that wasn’t a “speedster-adjacent” thing so much as an “immortal hero” thing. Theoretically immortal, in Clark’s case (something something cellular degeneration didn’t exist in his physiology, it was complicated).

Dick nodded slowly, putting the information he had on hand together in a neat package. “You’re wondering if I’m going to exhibit similar effects of slowed aging,” he said.

“A brain and good looks,” Wally praised. “You’re the whole package, dude.”

“Tell that to my exes,” Dick snorted. And, ouch, he did have quite the list of those, didn’t he? “We’re not around each other as much,” Dick went on, “seeing as we don’t live together like Barry, Iris, and Hal do – is he still on the couch or did Barry and Iris finally give him the guest room?”

“More like my old room,” Wally scoffed. “But actually, Iris and Hal have, like, shared custody of Barry. They’re working on making it all work, like, romantically, even though Barry’s the only poly one of the three. Or, rather, Hal and Iris aren’t necessarily interested in each other like that—”

“I should have known better than getting you on a tangent,” Dick’s eyes crinkled a little, laughter peeking it’s way into his expression for a moment. It was such a relief to see him smiling. “But yeah, we don’t live together. But Hal and Iris don’t generally hitch rides on the Flash Express.”

Wally opened his mouth, then closed it. He actually didn’t want to think about that, no matter how funny the joke might have been.

Dick frowned at him. “You know what I meant!”

“You said ‘ride’!” Wally threw his hands up in a defensive barrier between himself and his best friend.

“Wally!”

They both laughed.

“Oh my god,” Dick shook his head. “To summarize, you’re wondering if time in proximity to a speedster could balance with time in direct contact with the Speed Force, through speedster piggybacking, right?”

“Yeah, that,” Wally said.

“Well, check back in ten years, I guess. We’ll see if my prospective aging has slowed up, or if I’m just another of the mortals, doomed to eventually lose my youthful good looks and perky ass.”

Wally snorted. “It’s a great ass,” he said.

“It’s just weird when you agree with me about my ass,” Dick said.

“It is, though.”

Dick waved him off. “I know, I know. You wouldn’t believe how much I hear that.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I would believe it.”

“You never did leave your horny teenager phase, did you?” Dick tossed him a wicked little smirk, but turned away before Wally could process that Dick had just accused him of flirting (not that he wasn’t, honestly – he was just a flirty guy!). “So, punching bag?”

“How about we do lunch first, while you’re. You know.”

“Not on a rampage?”

Wally shrugged, even though Dick had turned away and wouldn’t see it. “I dunno, man. I feel like I need to feed you while you’re in a cooperative mood. When was the last time you ate anything?”

Dick shrugged.

“Days?” Wally guessed.

Dick hesitated, then shrugged again.

“Probably. I mean, not like. Not more than a day or two.”

That still wasn’t good, and the atmosphere was immediately heavier with the confession, but Wally elected not to comment on it. “Do you feel like anything in particular? Or, like, do you prefer to avoid something? Or to just have something light?”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. Apparently the mention of his apetite, or lack thereof, was enough to drag his mood back down. If he didn’t feel the need to make sure Dick actually got taken care of, food and all, Wally would have regretted even bringing it up.

“I’m… really not hungry,” Dick said.

“Do you think you could do pizza?”

Dick shook his head.

“Soup? I have Aunt Iris’s chicken noodle recipe.”

Dick hesitated, then shook his head again.

“Cereal?”

Silence. That was… legitimately a little disturbing. A Dick Grayson that didn’t want cereal? Yikes.

“Uh. Salad?”

Dick sighed, then turned back to Wally, arms crossed. “I guess I could manage that,” he said. His eyes were glued to the floor and his lips were twisted into a small frown.

“I’m assuming, like, nothing fancy, then,” Wally said. He already knew that Dick despised the purple leaves in garden mixes, and the ruffled dark green ones… were those kale? The safest bet was just straight-up romaine and vegetables on the side. “I’ll grab a rotisserie chicken, too. You don’t have to eat any, but like. You know. Protein.”

“You can use my card, if you want.”

Wally waved him off. “Nah. It’s just salad. If you really feel like it, you can grab the next lunch or something.”

\--

Wally was gone for five minutes, ten tops. He wasn’t about to cop to use of his abilities for the sake of speeding things up, but there was definitely use of his abilities for the sake of speeding things up. All the same, he arrived back to the rhythmic thud, thud-thud-thud, repeat, of Dick beating up his punching bag, which meant that Dick had immediately sought the punching bag out, probably before Wally had even left the apartment building.

Wally figured that it was too much to hope that Dick had decided to make use of punching gloves, so he decided not to worry, one way or the other, and set about putting the salad-for-two together.

More like “salad for one depressed Bat and a guy with the appetite of a small army,” which actually amounted to a frankly ludicrous salad, ostensibly proportioned for an army rather than two young adult males.

“Got any dressing preferences?” Wally called. There was no doubt that Dick was aware of his return as soon as the door opened, so Wally didn’t feel bad not announcing himself earlier.

“No, not really,” Dick called back.

“So, if I break out the Russian dressing, you’re not going to turn your nose up at it.

“Gross,” Dick wandered out of the guest-room-turned-exercise-room, nose wrinkled. His knuckles – the ones not already bandaged – were bruised over something awful.

“You know you can use the boxing gloves, right?” Wally raised an eyebrow.

Dick returned the expression. “Yes, and?”

Wally huffed and threw a hand in the air. “Dressings. I know for a fact that you’re not ‘good with anything,’ so let’s maybe have a real answer, or so help me you’ll get the raspberry vinaigrette. Or the Thousand Island!”

“Don’t you have something normal? Like Italian dressing? Or ranch?”

“Yeah, in fact, I do,” Wally said. “And one of the reasons I have it is because you’re all straight-vinegar-and-oil or one of those organic bottles of Italian.”

“And Asiago ranch,” Dick said.

“Yeah, the fancy shit. Or Alfred’s homemade dressing, which is fancier than the ‘fancy shit.’ So, what is it? Creamy ranch? I have creamy ranch.”

“You know, Jason hates cr—” Dick’s expression froze, his eyes wide, then dropped. “Oh my god.” He covered his mouth. “I’m never going to hear him complain about creamy ranch dressing, again. Or catch him stealing my Lucky Charms. Or-or find him in the kitchen, baking with Alfred. Oh my—oh my god.”

“Shit,” Wally zipped around the counter and over to Dick’s side. “Shit,” he repeated, softer. He wasn’t any good at that kind of stuff. He didn’t know what to say or do or… or…

Wally wrapped his arms around Dick, almost mechanically, and pulled him in close.

Dick wasn’t quite crying, but he was close to it. “He’s never going to bug me on patrol, or get caught swearing over comms, or—or sneak another cigarette when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s. He’s gone. Fuck.”

Wally choked down his own sudden emotions.

There was a lot that the kid was never going to do again, and a lot more that he’d never get to experience in the first place. Like graduating. Or going on a proper date. Or arguing with Bruce over what college he would be going to, because that kid would have had his foot in the door of every college with a Lit program—

Wally bowed his head, leaning his head against Dick’s and taking a shaky breath. Dick had his face pressed into Wally’s shoulder.

“He-he-he never even had his first kiss. Fuck!” Dick shouted into Wally’s shoulder. His voice was muffled, but not enough to disguise just how much hurt he was feeling. His fingers curled into the back of Wally’s shirt and his shoulders began to shake.

Wally was relieved, to a degree, that the tears were finally coming. Dick would feel better after getting it out properly like that. Not all good, and certainly not great, but better.

Wally rubbed his hand up and down Dick’s spine. “It’s okay,” he murmured into Dick’s hair, over and over again. He interspersed the platitude with statements of “it’s going to be okay” and “you’re okay, you’re going to be okay” and “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere” and gentle hushing noises. He couldn’t do much more than that, except wait Dick out.

Normally, speedsters weren’t good at waiting, or living at a normal, human speed, in general. But there were exceptions. Dick was, for the most part, one of Wally’s only exceptions. Dick was worth taking the time to slow down, to go at a slower pace.

God, that was a bit sappy.

And, look, he hadn’t even been that great at slowing down for, like, Artemis, even. Back before. You know. Before everything happened. And he was even worse at it after reemerging from the Speed Force, not least because his speed had increased exponentially and his heart had shrugged off its previous Speed Force related conditions.

There was so much less of a reason to slow down, at least at first.

Artemis hadn’t been able to keep up, nor had she wanted to. She’d managed to move on, in the time that Wally was gone, and wasn’t willing to take so many steps back to meet Wally at square one. At first, Wally had begrudged her that, but honestly… he was glad she’d been able to move on. He was thankful, even, that she’d been able to move on, once he’d seen what not moving on had done to Dick.

Well. That was in the past.

But then again, Dick had been the only person continuously trying to keep up with Wally. He’d been the only one to joke around with him about “Old Wally” versus “New Wally.” He’d been the one to let Wally crash on his couch for the first few weeks back, then he’d been the one to help him get an apartment. He’d been there at every step of Wally’s reintegration, which, yeah. Let’s be honest, Wally owed Dick a shit-ton for all that. He just wished that a chance to help Dick in return hadn’t come at the cost of Jason’s life.

Shit. Crap.

Wally forced himself back to the present. He remembered the time before he was a speedster. He’d already had ADHD back then. It was fine, really, not something that affected his quality of life (the way his parents’ lack of pride or acceptance did). Speedster ADHD though? Different level.

Dick was down to sniffles.

Wally didn’t extract himself from the embrace, though. They had to eat (Dick had to eat), but Wally figured it could wait awhile, yet.

Wally maneuvered himself and Dick over to the couch, barely loosening his hold on Dick, and managed to flop them down on it without hurting either himself or his friend. He adjusted Dick in his lap, so that he was sitting sideways. Dick allowed the adjustment without comment. “Feeling any better?” Wally asked.

“No,” Dick said with a watery laugh. “But. Thanks. For everything, Wally.”

“Yeah. It’s fine,” Wally’s fingers found their way to Dick’s hair and began to card their way through it. “Take as long as you need,” he murmured.

Dick muffled another watery laugh in Wally’s shoulder.

In the few (very few) times Wally had imagined a situation that involved his best friend in his lap, he was pretty sure none of them included a scenario where Dick was crying into his shoulder. (What? He was bi and he had eyes. Sometimes those types of situations just came up, sue him.)

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Dick said, obviously reiterating what he’d said back at his own apartment.

Wally resisted the urge to repeat his own quip. He just kept running his fingers through Dick’s hair and offered the occasional quiet platitude.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't even the last one I'm planning (which is why that second series appeared on this and the last fic).
> 
> Plans for Picking Up the Broken Pieces include:  
> \-- platonic bed-sharing  
> \-- platonic cuddling  
> \-- hopefully non-platonic stuff too  
> \-- meeting Tim for the first time  
> \-- Dick not handling that^ very well  
> \-- eventual Jason resurrection  
> \-- fallout from Jason's resurrection
> 
> Yeah idk, I probably won't get to all of this, but those are the things I'd like to write, haha.
> 
> Also, please be nice to me in the comments (lol), my anxiety's been acting up a bit, so idek, I want to leave comments completely open, reg or no reg, but sometimes that makes me nervous. So yeah, I beg of thee: be kind. XD


End file.
